Exercise

This is an exercise. Writing. Forming sentences. Thinking about grammar (I don't do this very well). Structuring paragraphs. Creating the end before the beginning. Tonight I wanted to write. But, alas, I have no strong emotions, no unanswered business (at least I am not so inclined to want to scratch beneath the surface on this evening) So, this is my exercise. My discipline.

If you could see my unfinished blog entries you would undoubtedly be impressed. I get half way through. I'm interrupted. I never finish. Once interrupted I never go back. What is written was meant to be. For me. No more. But there was one entry that impressed even me. I started writing it the day after my last blog entry (Lady at the Top of the Tower). I have copied it below for anyone interested in my conflicted soul. I have left it unfinished - as it should be.

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 It IS the Mountain.

As humans, we have to somehow scramble, struggle and inch our way to the top of the mountain if we are to transform (change would be a good word, less religious) ourselves. It cannot be every mountain, and it cannot be any mountain. It has to be a mountain worth dying for. The mountain climb may take one whole life or it may take seconds. We should not fool ourselves, this mountain climb is for ourselves only. It is a purely selfish experience but something that is vital for personhood. There is no giving up. There is only forward movement. The grit and determination should be palpable. We should long for the goal. Our dreams should be consumed by it. And when the top is reached we should congratulate ourselves and begin the journey back down as quickly as possible so as not to get caught up in the moment. For it is in the climb that we find what we are looking for. At the point of summiting the view should not be taken into account; it should not mesmerize us. It should only serve as a marker.